Broken
by Be-Strong-Little-Marshmallow
Summary: Please read my story despite the bad summary. Hermione, whose happiness was destroyed one fateful night, tries to find where she belongs. HHr. Please RR
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm J.K. Rowling, Millionaire-extraordinaire, writing on some stupid website instead of finishing the HP series and making billion's of dollars. I much rather spend my time writing some silly little story. (Note the sarcasm.)

A/N: Well, you'll like it, or you won't. I don't give flying monkey's ass about if you like it or not. If you don't like the story plot, don't bother reading it. I write for myself, not for others. I came up with this story out of sheer boredom at first, but actually liked the idea, so I decided to make it better. Here it goes. 3/28- I have just redone the prologue, made it better.

And I'm sympathetic, 

And I'm sympathetic, 

never letting on I feel the way I do 

As I'm falling apart again at the seam   
never letting on I feel the way I do   
As I'm falling apart again at the seam   
And I'm falling, falling, falling,   
falling, falling, falling, falling   
Apart again at the seam.

Seether: Sympathetic

Broken 

Prologue:

The night is cold, yet I have no desire to leave. I am quite content to just sit here, and wait for the mourners to disperse. I won't join them; I can't join them. For them to see me would be my most dire mistake. 

I am sitting on the giant oak tree that overlooks the entire graveyard. Row after row of grey tombstones line up in a morbid pattern that only I can see, but my attention is mainly focused on the large white marble tombstone around which the mourners are flocking too. There are around a thousand people there today, but I can easily pick out the people I search for. The red-headed Weasley's are up in the front of the procession, their hair standing out brightly against the dark and bleak sky. They are the only ones I can recognize, as the rest are just a blurry blob of brown and black. 

Finally, the mob is leaving. Many are weeping, but I don't concern myself with them. Let them cry, they are weak people.

Finally, the last person has cleared. Climbing down swiftly and confidently, I leave the tree, and calmly make my way to the grave. I have to say goodbye. But the last thing I had reckoned on was the pain I feel as I make my way closer to the grave. Part of me is still refusing to believe that he is dead. My heart is broken in half already, but realizing that he is truly dead will shatter it to pieces. But another part, my reasonable part, knows that he's dead, and wants to make closure. It's snowing now, but I do not care about the snow flakes that are freezing to my exposed flesh. I reach the grave, and fall to my knees. Now of this seems real. It was as if I were lost in a dark dream, and I couldn't find my way out.

A cry from deep within me rose into my throat, but I choke it back, not wanting anyone to hear me. I clutch my hair, the pain in my breast making me gasp for air. I am denying it; I don't want it to be real. I'm trying not to loose control.

My entire life depends on my keeping control, I can't afford to loose it now. For so long I have kept my emotions deep down inside of me, so that no one would know of the turmoil in my mind. I am ashamed of my emotions, emotions that I have always felt so strongly about. My emotions betray me, make me weak. I hate weakness, in myself and in others, so if I hate weakness I hate myself. I only have myself, so what good would it do for me to hate me. Letting people know how I feel makes me weak, so I hid it to myself. I never cry, I never scream. I keep it locked up inside of me, never letting the cries escape my lips. Sometimes, at night, I think about all that I have inside me, all of the secrets, and I am amazed that I haven't ripped apart, like a bag stuffed with too many books.

I try to make myself look at the tombstone, which is made of pale white marble. As long as I didn't see his name on the stone I can still say that he was alive, but is just gone for a while. And I won't loose control. I know it's my fault that he is dead. I murdered him through my actions, through every plan I had devised. I killed the man I love. 

I wonder sometimes that, if I had known what I would become, would I have done things differently? If my parents hadn't died, and I hadn't killed that man, would everything be different? Would I be as dejected as I am now? What moment in my life did I become crazy, and lost my identity as Hermione Granger? 

I try to think back, back to when everything was more or less still ok, back to when I was happy. I have to know what happened, and I can only know by going back in my memories. 

The scenes from my mind are unfolding in my head. I can see everything, almost smell the smells. I'm getting lost in them, and I don't care. In my memories I can remember what it was like to be loved. Things were much simpler then, back in the beginning. 


	2. Chapter One: Nothingness

Disclaimer: If I have to explain that I don't own anything but the plot and new characters, you truly are a stupid individual.  
  
A/N: I finally got time to write this chapter! I had a hard time getting started. The story will be kind of slow at first, but things will get darker soon. Hermione is on the edge of severe depression, and you will see some of it in this chapter. I would like to thank SoccerLily and JWD for reviewing my story.  
  
"I don't know why I had a stream of fear running through the back of my thoughts, but it ran, thin and silvery, like a thread of light I was afraid to touch."  
  
-Rain V.C. Andrews  
  
Chapter One:  
  
Dear Harry,  
How have you been? It's been a couple weeks since I last heard from you. Is everything all right? How are the Dursley's treating you? You have been staying out of trouble, haven't you? I sure hope that you have. How have you been holding up? I know it's been hard with Sirius dead, and I do hope you don't do anything stupid. I've been worried about you. Your last letter was rather elusive, as if you really weren't focused what you wrote. I don't think I'll be staying at headquarters this year; I'd like to spend as much time with my parents while times are still good. I have been keeping track of the Daily Prophet, but there have been no significant articles on Voldemort, save for the reports of hysterical lunatics claiming to have seen him near their homes. But we all know that those reports are ludicrous. I don't know if you have heard from Ron at all, but he told me, (he finally learned to use a telephone) that his family is once again staying at headquarters. He called me from a phone booth. He hinted that you might be going to headquarters in a few weeks. Take care, Harry. I'll try to catch you at Diagon Alley.  
  
Love from,  
Hermione  
  
I reread the letter, making sure it didn't reveal too much about what I was thinking. I hoped he wasn't good at reading between the lines, for he would probably be angry if he did.  
  
Harry had seemed fine at the end of the school year, but I wasn't sure if he really was. His letters had gotten more and more depressed as time went on, and I was afraid he might do something stupid. Like committing suicide.  
  
Sighing deeply, I stuffed the letter into an envelope, and gave it to my new owl, Gypsy. She took it in her beak, and took off. I lay back on my bed. It was around three in the morning, yet I couldn't bring myself to sleep. I had been having some strange dreams lately, and though I couldn't remember all of the dreams in their entirety, the parts I did recollect were enough to make me want to disappear under my bed covers and never come out again.  
  
Despite the dreams, though, my summer had gone rather well. I only had a slight pain in my ribs from time to time, and the days I spent with my parents and old friends were enjoyable. It was refreshing after the hectic previous school year, to not have to worry about Voldemort and Umbridge and Harry's mental health. Sometimes I just wished that I didn't have to go back to Hogwarts, yet my thirst for knowledge always drove me back. If it hadn't been for Ron and Harry, I probably would've gone insane from all of the pressures of trying to be perfect. The anxiety I had intensified in the fifth year, and I had become severely depressed. Not that anyone knew or noticed. I had to be cheerful in order to help Harry. But that deep ache of hopelessness had increased after the Department of Mysteries, and some days I was so upset that I would suddenly break out into sobs. I didn't know what that spell was that was cast on me, but my depression had intensified greatly after that. As I thought about that night, I felt a sudden onslaught of that depression. Reaching for the small bottle on my dresser, I popped a couple of sleeping pills in my mouth, knowing that even if they didn't cause me fall to sleep, the pills would numb my senses.  
  
As I was lying on my bed, I thought about how I always tried to be perfect. It really was hard to live up to the expectations put on me, and I even considered purposely failing my classes. I could even see the expressions on my teachers faces when they handed back my paper with a big zero on it. No more Miss Perfect. It was about then that the pills kicked in, and my mind started to wander. I had been thinking about being perfect, and soon the topic in my head evolved into something entirely different; I began to wonder about how to make the perfect bread pudding. Rather idiotic, but it did pass the time. I was so engrossed on the topic that I didn't notice it when the first light of dawn filtered in through my window. I was in a fuzzy sort of stupor, and only came to my senses when a bird flitted into my room, landed on my windowsill, and started to chirp. I watched with amusement as I saw Crookshanks creep up on the little bird, and shook my head as the cat pounced on it. Poor little bird never have a chance. I glanced at my clock, and saw that it was five-thirty. It was the perfect time to get up. I swung my legs around, and placed them on the floor. I picked up the little calendar that my dad had gotten me, the one with the inspirational messages for each day. Out of habit, I flipped to Wednesday, July thirty-first, and read the message.  
  
"Friends never have to ask if anything is wrong. They already know just by seeing you."  
Unknown  
  
"Funny," I snorted, "that must mean that none of them see me."  
  
~*~*~  
  
After pulling on an old housecoat, and grabbing a cup of tea, I went out the back door into the garden. Stumbling slightly as Crookshanks rubbed against legs, I went into a little grove of trees in the yard that I had claimed as my own when I was five years old. Sitting on the bench that had been placed there, I was content to just sit and listen to the birds chirp. Through a gap in the trees, the sunrise was visible, and that feeling of not going back to Hogwarts became even more intense. I would have been content to just sit in that grove of trees for the rest of my life. I was almost tempted to stay there on that bench, refusing to move. I even tensed myself up when I saw my mother come out, preparing myself to cling to that bench, but when she called out to me, I stood up, and walked over to her.  
  
"Morning honey. How did you sleep?" she asked. I looked up at her when I reached. I loved to see my mother's face in the morning because she always had a smile for me. My mother was a very lovely woman, and even more so in the morning, with her long blond hair wild and crazy around her beautiful face. I always wished that I would grow up to look like her, but, like every wish I had, it was not going to happen. Mum was tall and slender, her body proportionately matched, with golden blond hair that fell down the small of her back. She was very tall with legs for miles, and a curvy body that would make any clothing look good on her. In comparison to her, I was rather short and scrawny, standing only around five feet four inches, with bushy brown hair and small breasts. It was hard to believe that I was her daughter at times.  
  
I suppose I idolized my mother like all girls do, but my mother really was an exceptional woman. I didn't just want to look like her; I wanted to be like her. Mother had a personality that just drew people to her, like a moth to a flame, and always brought smiles to peoples faces. I had a hard time just getting to know someone. She could crack jokes that even the unpleasant of people would laugh at. She so good at it that I didn't doubt that she could make even Snape laugh. I wanted to be like her more than anything.  
  
"I slept ok," I lied. Mum had a way of becoming too motherly if I told her about any of my sleeping problems.  
  
"That'd good to hear. So, are you ready for our girls' day out today? I have the reservations at the spa in order, so I thought we might get a head start. I'm glad that you're up so early, we can leave in about an hour. Let's get dressed, grab something to eat, and head on out," she said excitedly. I grinned happily. Ever since I had turned ten, Mother and I went to the spa at Turnberry in Ayrshire in the summer, making it a mother daughter trip. It was always enjoyable, and I had been looking forward to it. A little bit of relaxation was just what I needed.  
  
We started to head up to the house, walking in comfortable silence. We were just about to enter the house when Mum suddenly said to me, "Maybe we should go to the hair salon to get our hair styled. My hair is getting awfully long, and your hair has been the same way since you were five. And maybe we'll go to a makeup specialist to have you look at makeup and get your colouring. And then get some new clothing for the both of us. Hell, we can even rent a suite in some fancy hotel and stay there until Sunday! Wouldn't it be fun to get away for a few days, to just indulge in ourselves without your dad?" I started as she said this; the excitement in her voice unfamiliar to me.  
  
"Of course it would be fun, but do we have enough money for something like that?" I asked cautiously keeping my excitement at the prospect down to a minimum.  
  
"We do. Business has done really well down at the Dentistry. We've had several root canals, which is bad for the people, but good for us. We've been saving up," she answered, her tone of voice normal again.  
  
"Well then, why don't we do it? A totally unplanned trip, just winging it! I think that is just what we need to do!" I exclaimed, my excitement rising.  
  
"Just don't tell your father yet!" she called as I charged up the stairs to change. I quickly got dressed, and then packed some summer clothes and my bathing suit in a duffel bag. I had everything packed quickly, and only slowed down after I had everything stuffed into the trunk of Mums new car. Mum laughed at my exuberance, and told me that we were going to leave in an hour. I went up to my room, to excited for breakfast, and bounced onto the bed. I was so happy to be able to get out of the house for a trip. So excited that I even forgot about the previous nights bout of depressing thoughts. Finally the hour passed, and Mother and I set off for a much needed vacation.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"That Lisa is a damned good masseuse," Mum muttered as she fell onto the soft sofa in our suite.  
  
"She is. And that scalp massage was wonderful," I replied lazily as I flung myself on one of the armchairs. I felt so relaxed.  
  
"I really love your hair now. I'm glad you decided to do more that have it trimmed. It suits you with it above the shoulders. Without all of that hair in the way you can see you facial features more. You look so much like Leonora did when she was your age," she said.  
  
"Aunt 'Nora? I don't look anything like her! She's much prettier," I said back, my face scrunched up in confusion.  
  
"You're pretty too Hermione. You just always hide behind a book, so no one ever sees you. If you don't mind, I think I'll take a nap before we go for dinner. Wake me in a few hours," she yawned as she walked into her room. She closed the door, but I continued to stare at it. I noticed that the wood had a strange pattern in the grain. She actually thought that I was pretty. Of course, her being my mother automatically made her think that I was, but it was the first time anyone had ever told me.  
  
I went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. It was true, what she said about my face. Without so much hair in the way, you could actually see my facial features. I didn't know what they did to my hair, but it was much more relaxed, and smoother, and was just above my shoulder. They had highlighted my hair with a more brownish blond colour, making it shine. My hair did seem to fit me better, but I still didn't think that I was pretty.  
  
I sighed deeply, now convinced that my mother was either blind or completely bonkers. I stared at myself for a few moments when I decided to go to the beach. I changed out of my summer dress into a pair of slacks and a loose t-shirt, left a note for my mother, and headed downstairs. I walked up the boulevard to the shoreline, making a mental note to stop by some of the shops I saw for some gifts for Harry and Ron.  
  
I was thinking about what I would get them when I realized with a shock that it was Harry's birthday. Oh, I hope he doesn't mind a late present, I thought to myself. Sorry Harry, but I don't have any money.  
  
Shaking my head with regret, wondering how I could have forgotten, I continued on my way to the beach. When I reached the sand, I took off my flip-flops, and started to walk to the waters edge. The feel of the sand between my toes was wonderful, and I was able to forget my guilt over forgetting about Harry. I always loved going to the beach, and seeing the ocean was breathtaking as usual. The water seemed like it would go on forever.  
  
From the first time I saw the ocean, I fell in love with it. I would fantasize about having a small house by the beach, and how my life would be. Sometimes at night, I could even smell the salty tang of the ocean breeze. When you glanced into the ocean it was as if you were looking into eternity, as if the water never ended.  
  
When I became older, I began to fantasize darker dreams. Life would become so hard, due to my obsession with being perfect, and trying to due everything. It was a sickness of mine, this obsession of mine. It never left me, never eased up. In the end I wished that I wasn't myself. Sometimes I just wanted it all to go away. I wanted it so much, that I would think back to the ocean, think back to eternity. I would dream about the day when I would swim out in the ocean, swim out into eternity, and never return. I would leave behind all of my pain, and leave my nightmares behind. It was a fantasy so wonderful that sometimes I would even get caught up in it. For in eternity, there was no pain, there were no nightmares. There was only myself. There was nothing.  
  
More than anything else, I craved for nothingness. 


	3. Chapter Two: Dark Visitor

Disclaimer: I know it's not fair to make fun of a mentally challenged person, but you would have to be a complete retard to think that I would take credit for the fabulous J.K.'s writing. If you do think that I've committed plagiarism, then you are slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter. And that's the cold hard truth. 

"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers."

M. Scott Peck 

Chapter Two:

Mother and I stayed at the hotel for four days, finally getting ready to leave that Saturday night. We had spent the entire time there shopping, buying everything from clothes to jewellery, perfume to makeup. Mum had finally talked me into getting some makeup, not a lot, but more than I wanted. And I wore it only because I didn't want to hurt Mum's feelings. 

Mum had become very strange during that vacation. Normally Mum was soft-spoken and subdued, twenty years of dentistry will do that to you, but while we were there, some strange wild thing took over my mom. Mum did everything as if the Grim Reaper was chasing after her, trying to get me to do as much with her as was possible. And while we did all of our activities, she kept giving me advice on all sorts of things, like childbirth, marriage and sex. It was rather embarrassing at times, but it was as if she would explode if she didn't get everything out. By the end of the week, I was ready to get back home, where I was certain that she would stop talking to me about all of those things. 

After one last dinner at the hotel, we packed up all of our new belongings, piled them into the car, and headed back home. We started out talking about silly nothings, but as we got closer to home, she became quiet, and seemed preoccupied. A look of sadness shone out of her eyes when we pulled up into the driveway. I started to get out of the car, but Mum still sat in the drivers seat, staring off into space, white-knuckling the steering wheel. I finally decided to ask what was wrong.

"Are you alright? You seem unhappy," I asked. She turned to look at me, and the way she looked at me caused a trickle of fear to run through my body. Her eyes seemed vacant, and were swimming in tears. She looked at me as if she was never going to see me again, and that terrified me. 

"It's nothing, honey. It's the week before my period, and I always get depressed," she said, smiling to reassure me. I didn't quite believe her, but it seemed reasonable, so we got out of the car, grabbed our bags, and headed into the house. 

It was rather late, around 12:00 am, and was very dark in the house. We started dragging our bags upstairs, and I had reached the top when I felt someone run up behind me and tickle my ribs. I screamed out in fright.

"Dad! Don't do that!" when I saw who it was. He started laughing, and I hit him on the shoulder.

"That wasn't funny!" I shrieked at him. He just laughed harder. I shook my head, my heart still pounding, and went into my room. I threw my bags on the floor, very angry with Dad. I knew that he didn't really know what made me so upset, but for a moment I wildly thought that it was a Death Eater attacking. Highly irrational, I know, but Voldemort probably knew by now that I was a friend of Harry, and I was terrified that they would try to get at what I knew about him. I knew that if they did they would have an easier chance to kill Harry, and to take over. 

It was not an easy thing for even a person with a strong constitution to imagine just what would happen if Voldemort was to take over, yet every night I sat there, imagining the horrors the would ensue. 

"You've got to stop this!" I snapped at myself. But the thoughts continued, and I became more and more depressed. I sat down on my bed, clutching my hair and shaking my head to rid myself of the thoughts. But I couldn't help but see the piles of dead bodies being piled up in ditches, the thousands of muggles and muggle-borns being sacrificed in sadistic ritualistic ceremonies. I could hear the screaming, smell the rotting flesh of dead people, hear the maniacal laugh of Voldemort as he found pleasure in reducing his enemies into poor begging lunatics. Cities would be destroyed; there would be nowhere to hide. 

Again, I tried to shake those thoughts from my mind. But as it did no good, I decided to read. I had a strange sense of foreboding, like something bad was going to happen, and whenever I felt like something was wrong, I would read a book to calm my nerves. Pulling out my much-used copy of Hogwarts, A History, I flipped to a particular section that I liked. I started skimming over the pages, but after only ten minutes my eyes started to close sleepily, against my wishes. It was not to soon that I fell asleep.

~*~*~

__

"Well done, Ha--," Hermione started to say, but the Death Eater behind her cast a spell at her back, and she fell over with a small, "oh!" As she passed into unconsciousness, she heard her name be called out, and all went black. 

Though unconscious on the outside, Hermione was very much aware of her own body, and had a blurry sense of what was happening on the outside. She was also aware that she was in pain, a strange, twisting sort of pain that felt like acid had been splashed on her. Inside her mind she screamed, long and loud, yet no one heard. Thoughts filled her head, thoughts unlike any she had before. She saw what would happen if Voldemort were to come back, and it terrified her. Scene after scene of horrific terror passed through her mind, and she could not block it. Hermione wanted out of her body.

As she saw those images, she felt a pull on her, and the compulsion to leave her burning body intensified. Voices called to her, calling her to them, and she had no choice but to listen to them. She felt herself rise, and suddenly the visions were gone, the pain disappeared. She looked down at her body, and saw Neville pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. He and Harry turned to run, and she soon lost sight of them. 

"Why are they taking my body," I somehow said to myself, though I had no lips that I could think of. Everything was sort of fuzzy, and mismatched. Whatever particles she had been reduced to caused her body to shift, and a times the thing she felt was her leg was right next to her mouth, and all was rather confusing. She was aware of the people below her, fighting for some reason, but she couldn't remember what the reason was. It was probably something bad. Some of the figures below her were shining a brilliant white colour, almost a blinding white, but some of the others, though, were different. They were covered with a slimy, black looking substance that tried countless times to invade the white light, but could not. I saw red eyes, staring at me, and I decided to go away. 

By body, or whatever it was, floated as if filled with helium. She no longer had bad thoughts, and felt happier that she had ever been before. The voices were calling to her again, and she floated towards them. But as she got closer, she became aware of presences around her, trying to get her to go to them. They circled around her like birds of prey, prodding, grabbing at her, but she ignored them, and headed towards the voices. Fire erupted around her, and a darker sort of pull, unlike the one that called her out of the body. It was demanding, and scalding. Things popped out of the deep chasm that surrounded her, and she felt herself slowly being dragged down. Her mind flooded with fear, and she fought the tug.

Then the voices started to call to her again, louder this time, and she answered them. Her incorporeal body started floating, ignoring the tug of that deep chasm that so demanding of her. She floated, her entire mind focused on the room with the voices, the voices calling her home. Home to where there was no pain, where there was no--

~*~*~

"Aiigghhhh!" a scream sounded, snapping me out of sleep.

"Whaaa?" I murmured stupidly to no one. I looked around wildly, but my room was so dark that a few lingering images from my dream still flashed across my vision. I thought that I had heard a scream, but my mind was so fuzzy I couldn't really concentrate long enough to ponder whether it had been in my dream or not. I was about to dismiss it as part of my imagination when another inhuman screech sounded from downstairs, followed quickly by the scream that most definitely belonged to Mother. This time I knew that it wasn't part of a dream, and I felt a tremor of terror pass through my breast. Suddenly wide wake, I slowly placed my feet on the floor, and stood up slowly, hoping not to make a thumping sound on the floor. A glance at my digital clock showed me that it was only 4:32 am, much to late for my parents to be having some sort if wild kinky sex, an image I hoped I would never have to see, and it was much too early for them to be getting ready for work. When another piercing scream sounded, I became extremely scared. After grabbing my wand off of my desk, I slowly opened my door, and stepped into the hallway as cautiously as I could. I knew that whatever was going on was occurring downstairs, but there may have been someone hiding up in the hallway, and I didn't want to take my chances. 

My wand arm extended far out in front of me, I quickly tiptoed to the top of the stairs, and looked around. There were obvious signs of a struggle, and I could see Daddy's glasses lying crushed on the floor. I could hear yelling now, and an unfamiliar voice screaming at someone to shut up. I heard a scream, this time issued from my father, and the inhuman shriek I had heard early came again, only this time it was so piercingly loud that my ears actually started to bleed. The strange creature's cry, a piercing '**shaweeea' **tone that was like an eagles call with an undertone of a woman screaming over fingernails scraping over a blackboard. 

I slowly descended the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I got a splinter halfway down, causing me to make a small cry in pain, and paused for a few moments. When I was sure that no one had heard, I started to descend again. But when the strange voice started to speak, it surprised me into stopping cold on the step. I tried to listen to what he was saying. 

"Where is the girl, muggle? Give her to me, and I'll make your, and your daughter's, death, much quicker. I can stay here all day and torture you, I rather enjoy it, but the longer you wait to tell me where she is, the longer your deaths will be," the booming deep voice yelled, and I knew with a sinking heart that the Death Eaters had come for me, and that I had no way of defending myself against his power. And I was stupid enough not to really mention Voldemort to my parents, so they had no clue why all of this was happening.

"ANSWER ME MUGGLE! DO YOU THINK I WILL STAND FOR YOUR LACK OF RESPECT? CRUCIO!" the man shouted, and the cries of my parents sounded in my ears again. Again, that hair-raising screech sounded from the room, and now that I was even closer to them, I could hear that the thing was laughing. The sound crawled over my skin like a slimy film that wouldn't go away, and I could feel dripping from my nose. I brought my hand to my nose, and when I looked at my hand I saw blood. Suddenly the shrieking stopped. The creature, I don't know what it was, suddenly screamed louder, more of an alert that a laugh. Panicking, I jumped the last few steps, darted into the kitchen, and had just hid in the pantry when I heard a voice from the hallway I had just been in. "Little girl! You cannot hide. You left blood behind, and my little pet hear will scent you out. If you're going to run, do it now!" he called. 

I crouched down onto the floor, hiding behind two huge bags full of flour and sugar. I stuffed myself into the corner, and listened as I heard footsteps. The steps were slow, and shook the floor with each step it took. A high whistling sound emitted from the kitchen, and I wondered wildly in my shocked state of mind if someone had forgotten to take the kettle off the stove, but soon realized that it was from whatever the "pet" was. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't need primal instinct to know that I didn't want to see what was on the other side of the door.

My heart was pumping wildly by then. I was petrified by fear, something that had never happened to me before. Wild, crazy thoughts poured through my mind, yet nothing I could do could control them. My ears were still bleeding, as were my nose, my mouth, and my eyes. My white shirt was quickly becoming red, yet I did nothing to stop the blood. I was sure that what ever was trying to find me could already smell the blood, so there was no real use to blocking the blood flow.

And sure enough, the heavy 'clunk, clunk, clunk' footsteps stopped at the door to the pantry, and a hand scratched at the doorknob. I knew then that at moment, really, truly knew, that my life was either going to end shortly, or would be seriously screwed for me in the future. And as the doorknob turned, every blasted centimetre that the knob spun, I felt my life head towards the inevitable. I was, in a sense, resigned to my fate. 

But nothing prepared me for the moment when the "pet" opened the door. Never in my life had I ever seen anything more horrible. But my shock lasted only a few moments before a blinding pain washed over my body. And then all went black. 


	4. Chapter Three: My Nightmares' Begun

Disclaimer: It's sad that in our cold hard world we need disclaimers.  
  
A/N: Well, here it is, the third chapter. Hope you like it. Of course, you probably do, or else you wouldn't be reading this right now. Yeah, Hermione is having a rather crappy time right now, but it all has a purpose in the end. So get off my back. *Rolls eye with exasperation* You people just nag, nag, nag. I'm just rather sick of reading about Harry's misery, is all.  
  
...If I smile and don't believe  
  
soon I know I'll wake from this dream  
  
don't try to fix me I'm not broken  
  
hello I'm the lie living for you so you can hide  
  
don't cry Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping  
  
hello I'm still here  
  
all that's left of yesterday Evanescence, Hello  
  
Chapter Three: I had taken me awhile to know I was not dreaming. But everything was so surreal; my mind had trouble admitting to what I saw. I couldn't accept what I was seeing. I wanted to lie to myself, to tell me that it wasn't true, but deep down I knew it was true, and that made it even harder to hold back the tears.  
  
It was like a scene from a movie. A bad, terrifying horror movie. Nothing seemed right; it was almost surreal in the room, with everything flicking in and out, one minute torn to pieces, then next back in order. I couldn't even tell which was real; the chaotic mess of a hideous murder, or a living room the way it had been for fifteen years. The only sound in the room was one that only I could hear; the steady thump, thump, thump of my heart pounding in my ears. My breath came in shallowly, and I could feel a sharp pain whenever I inhaled.  
  
I stood there for an indeterminable amount of time, not moving, not thinking, and not truly seeing. I just couldn't accept it. My parents were dead. Lying there, on the floor, their insides torn out, nothing but a skin left next to a bloody pile of meat and blood. The unfamiliar stench of coppery blood attacked my nose, and I fell over, retching out all the contents of my stomach. I fell forward into the puddle of vomit, ignoring the slimy, acid-like burn as it touched my face, and felt something within me shatter. Inside I just broke into thousands of tiny pieces. The old nursery rhyme came into my head, "All the king's horses, and all the kings men, couldn't put poor Hermione together again."  
  
After an eternity, I finally pulled myself up, and looked around. I was gasping for air by then, and was bordering on hysteria, but I managed to pull myself together long enough to try and figure something out. I tried to think of something, but my mind was blank, seeing nothing but that room. Furniture was flipped over, broken into pieces, and glass shards adorned the floor in a bizarre flower pattern that only I could see. Curtains were ripped from the windows, and the once blue walls were now splattered with blood. Pieces of muscles and sinew hung from the lamps like some horrible ornament arranged on it as if by a madman.  
  
'I have to get out of here' some deep level of my mind thought, but I was rooted to the spot. I didn't want to leave this room, to face whatever was waiting for me; I just wanted to pretend that everything was normal again. I didn't want to recognise that I was the only one left, that I was the only one who wasn't dead. It was only when I saw my father's heart, lying on the floor next to him that I rushed back in fear. I started backing out of the room, but my legs met something, and I fell over. I had tripped over another body.  
  
The man, who I later realized was the Death Eater, was lying on the floor spread-eagled on the floor, staring up blankly at the ceiling. His throat was sliced, a huge gap carved into it around five centimetres wide, and three centimetres deep. Blood still gurgled out of the wound, though it was obvious he had been dead for some time. Flies gathered around the wound, eating away at the cold, bloody skin and sinew that hung from it. The smell of rotting flesh invaded my nose, and I could see that the skin was turning a mottled grey-purple colour.  
  
For a brief, terrifying moment, I laid back on the body, feeling the soft, rotten body moulding with my own. I was frozen in place, but I wish I had moved, for what happened next was something that I hadn't planned on. The bodying, flattening slightly under my weight, and softened by death, gave way beneath me. The skin split open, and a rush of blood erupted out. Everything spilled out; the lungs burst out of the chest, followed by a festering heart that was full of holes. Guts ruptured out of the stomach, full of maggots and worms, writhing and twisting out of the corpse in another torrent of blood. The eyes imploded into the head, and the brains oozed from the ears and empty eye sockets, liquid save for a few small pieces of wrinkled mass. In a matter of seconds all that had been inside that man was now on the outside, and the smell was nothing like I had experienced before.  
  
A deep cry rose from deep in my lungs, low and hysterical. I scrambled backwards, my hands slipping in the blood, my hand being sliced by shards of the broken glass. I backed out of that room as fast I could crawl. I slammed the door when I reached the hallway, not wanting to see that horrible sight anymore, though it was already burned into my memory. Curling up into a foetal position, tears threatened to come to my eyes, but I wouldn't let myself cry. It wasn't the time.  
  
How had that man died? I knew he was the Death Eater who had butchered my parents, but how had he died? Why was he the one lying in the front room, and not me? I knew that I should be the dead one, not him. What had killed him? It was only then did I notice that I was holding a large carving knife in my hand.  
  
At that moment, all reason left me. I had killed a man. Slit his throat with the very knife in my hand. I had killed a man, and watched him die. It should have been him who had killed, who had watched me die, not the other way around.  
  
Why was I alive? Why didn't the man have enough decency to kill me too? Why did I kill him first? Why couldn't I be dead like my parents too? All these were thoughts I had as I lay on that cold wooden floor in the front hallway, screaming within my own head. I wanted to be dead.  
  
That desire I always had, the one where I wanted to just float away into nothingness, came back at me full force. Why don't I just leave myself? I asked myself, thinking of that dark, cool place where everything was happy again, where I was happy again. Life was just too hard for me to want to live on anymore.  
  
Time seemed to be moving slowly as I lay there, and what seemed like hours were only a few moments. I stared up at the ceiling, which seemed to close in on me, and it was then that I noticed a strange green glittering glow came from the front window. Now curious, and not exactly in the right of mind, I stood up, and went to the door. I wish now that I hadn't, but my mind was functioning like that a child's, and so I opened the door.  
  
Green skulls hung up in the air, thousands upon thousands glittering in the night sky, all seeming to stare down at me and laugh. People were running down the street, screaming shrilly as men in black cloaks and masks chased after them, cursing them with a variety of spells. Men were bound with silver cords, and were dragged away into huge large piles of writhing bodies. The Death Eaters would then set the bodies on fire, and laugh as the muggles burned alive. I don't know which made me sicker, the muggles loud screams as they were burned alive, or the cruel, merciless laughing of the evil men. The sick feeling intensified as a breeze sent me a foul waft of burning skin to my nose. Woman were merely stunned, to be dragged away for the lewd men's sick pleasures.  
  
Fires erupted periodically all over the place, the screams absolutely horrible, and all I could do was stand there and watch it happen. It was exactly as I had pictured the world to be like, back in the Department of Mysteries; it my worst nightmare come true.  
  
It was then that I noticed how vulnerable I was at that moment. My wand was gone, Merlin knows where it was, and a small kitchen knife would be nothing compared to a Death Eater hurling the Death Curse at me. I decided it was best to get back inside. But as I turned to go back inside to hide, a horrible screeching sounded from behind me, and I paused in my tracks. That sound was familiar, yet I couldn't place where I had heard it.  
  
I turned around quickly, in order to see what it was. I wish that I hadn't. The things were the most wretched creatures I had ever seen. The things were tall, almost twelve feet tall. The arms of the hideous being were overly long, maybe appearing so because of the metre long claws. They walked in a hunched back sort of way, causing their claws to drag on the ground in a sickening scraping sound. The skin was waxy, and a pale tan colour. A black, oily looking substance seemed to be coming from the creatures. The bodies were thin, only about twenty centimetres in width at the thickest point, with limbs as thin as two wands placed together side by side. The hands had four fingers, which ended in four very long, very thin, and very sharp claws. The legs were of bent forwards, like the creatures were crouching down, and ended in two feet that were humanly normal save for the five curved claws extending outwards from the toes. Also, connected to their backs were a set of wings; long, blackened leathery wings like those of a bat.  
  
It was the heads that scared me the most, though. The heads were round, perfectly round, and sat upon a neck as thin as my wrist. The mouth took up half of the head, a gaping whole that seemed to take up the entire front of the head. The mouth was as tall as my hand, and I have long fingers, and filled with the most deadly set of teeth that I have ever seen. There was no nose above the mouth, only two large black eyes the size of lemons practically on the top of the head. When the creatures opened their mouths, the entire top of the head swung farther back than anyone could imagine, and you could see dozens of rows of sharp fangs. They could easily fit a human head inside of the mouth and chomp it off in one bite. I know that for that's what those things were doing; they were biting of peoples heads, then tearing apart the bodies, eating the warm, moist flesh within. The things were dragging bodies behind them, the corpses skewered by the long claws. Hundreds of them, all grabbing at people and tearing away their insides. And one of them happened to notice me. Shrieking out their horrible cry, several of them started bounding towards me. I screamed out with fright, and ran back into the house, just barely shutting the door before they bounded on top of me. I fell back when I entered the house, slipping on a trail of blood I had left behind. I slid back on my back to the staircase, now out of my mind with fright, the knife in my hand held out in front of me. I scrambled to my feet, and started to look vainly for my wand. But I couldn't find it. I realised that my wand must have been with the Death Eater, but no force on that earth could ever make me go back into that room. Especially since now blood was leaking out under the crack in the door.  
  
I didn't know what to do. I was alone, in the middle of a Death Eater battle, without a wand. Suddenly feeling sick, I ran upstairs to the bathroom, and threw up. I flushed the toilet, then looked at myself in the mirror. My appearance shocked me; my face was one huge bruise, puffy and blue. My lip was split, tinted with a hint of green. Just what I needed, an infection. My neck had several slashes on then, and finger-shaped red marks encircling it. My t-shirt, the one I had fallen asleep in, was barely hanging onto my body, and was soaked in blood. Whether it was my blood, or someone else's was beyond my knowledge. I had several cuts on my abdomen, but one was especially deep, and still steeped out blood. A black, tar-like gunk stuck to it, turning the skin around it a sickly blue-black colour, which was burning furiously. I recognised it as the black stuff that was coming off of those horrid creatures. There was blood dripping down my legs, and I wildly wondered if my period had started. It hadn't, for it had passed two weeks before, and the area ached more than it usually did during my period. I was suddenly very afraid of what had happened earlier in the night. I was glad that I couldn't remember any of it. It amazed me, though, how I hadn't noticed the pain before then.  
  
I was lost in my thoughts, just staring at my puffy face, still wondering what I would do. I knew I had to hide, but where? Certainly not in the house; eventually Voldemort would come looking for the dead Death Eater downstairs and kill me for killing his follower. But I couldn't hide elsewhere, for I was certain that the second I walked out of the door one of those horrible creatures would pounce on me and tear me to bits. I sunk down to the floor, clutching my hair, not knowing what to do. All I wanted was for Harry and Ron to be there. They would know what to do. Or maybe Dumbledore. He certainly would know what to do. If only I could contact him.  
  
At that moment, a soft hooting sound came from my room. "Oh," I thought to myself, "Gypsy's home." Gypsy's home. Then it came to me. I could send a letter to Dumbledore! Why I hadn't thought of that before then was beyond me. It was strange how everything seemed to evaporate from my mind in the midst of a tragedy, for normally I was a level-headed thinker.  
  
I left the bathroom, practically crawling from my newfound pain, and dragged myself to my bedroom. Gypsy saw me, and flew onto my shoulder. I stood up, and after a moment of nausea, I started to write the letter. Crookshanks came out from the closet and started circling my legs, but I ignored him. After writing a short note, already splattered with blood, I tied it to Gypsy's leg and sent her. I watched her fly out into the night, and had to quickly close the window when one of those creatures flew at me. It was shocking to look out on the village. It was like looking at a fiery inferno, a true vision of Hell. That was what Pandemonium, the capital of Hell, looked like. And I was stuck in the middle of it.  
  
A creaking sound came from behind me. I turned around quickly, my hand tightly holding the knife in a death-like grip. My breath came quickly, almost as if I was gasping, as my body strained to hear a footstep, a rustle of material. Surely enough, I head the floor squeak. Feeling as if my throat was closing, determined to deprive me of oxygen, I slowly crept to the doorway. My whole body shook, and another wave of nausea passed over me again. Walking to the door felt like I was walking to a grave, and had a horrible feeling that if I were to look in that grave, I would see myself lying in it. There was something bad in that hallway, and I wasn't so sure if I wanted to see it. It could very well mean my own death.  
  
Another growl sounded from the hallway, and I knew then that it was aware of my presence. Strangely enough, that almost made me feel better, to know that it was aware of me. At least something in this world acknowledged me. But that growl that I heard, didn't seem normal. It felt oily, slimy, like it didn't belong in this world. It filled me with hatred, for I knew that thing didn't belong on this earth. It was wrong, and had to die. The growl was so different, it made my hair stand up on end.  
  
I hadn't realized that I had stopped walking towards the door. That low guttural moan coming from the hallway had stopped, and I snapped back to my senses. Without a pause, and only one skip of my heart, I stepped out into the hallway. No one was there.  
  
Looking around in confusion, I looked around wildly. I could have sworn that I had heard growling, yet no one was there. The hallway was completely empty.  
  
"I must be losing my mind," I muttered to myself. I wish now that I hadn't. In fact, there were a lot of things I wish I hadn't done that night. Speaking aloud was one of them, for all of a sudden, the low guttural growls sound from around me, and a loud clicking noise echoed through the air. I looked around wildly, and saw thousands of these little creatures bound up to me. Again, that feeling of absolute horror and disgust filled me when I saw the creatures. The tallest ones reached mid-calf on me, and were one of the most wretched things I had ever seen. The bodies were those of a spiders, but with two legs on each side. Four long necks protruded from the spider-body, with a head wresting on each one. The heads were in the very least like a dogs, but a sort of dog I had never seen before. The head had two snouts, but were connected to one head. The skin was a mottled grey-green colour, and hung from the bones like it was rotting off.  
  
I felt shock and repulsion when I saw them, but it didn't last long. With blood-curdling screams, the creatures dived on me, and immediately started to bite at my skin. I could feel small chunks being ripped from my face, neck, and body, and no matter how many I killed with my ever slashing knife, they just kept coming. I thrashed around, throwing myself into my room. I kicked the door shut, and attempted to pull off the rest of the things. I managed to kill them all, but by that time I was severely bleeding, and knew I need medical attention. I had no choice but to crawl out the window. But as I opened the window, a crash sounded from behind me, and the little things rushed in, followed by one of the winged things. The small things dove at me, and I fell out the window. It was a long fall, almost seeming to take a lifetime. Everything had slowed down, and it seemed as if I were floating. But then I landed on my back, my head smashing into a rock, and felt a deep spasm of pain rush through my body. The last thing I saw was the tall creature flying out of the window, and landing at my feet. I tried to get up and run, but my body seemed to want to give up. Everything went dark, and soon I was in the dark utopia that was quickly becoming a familiar place to me. And I was happy about it. It was the one place where all of the pain was gone. 


	5. Chapter Four: Boredom in the Mind

Disclaimer: Do I really have to say anything?  
  
A/N: Yeah, so I made Hermione's life miserable. BFD! I have to power, and there's nothing you can do about it. MUAHAHAHAH!  
  
Anyways, here's the story. This chapter's going to be a weird one, because I got bored one night, and decided to change things around a bit. The chapter I had intended for this one is going to be chapter five. Every time one of these (~*~*~) shows up is when Hermione looses conscious thought. So, I hope you enjoy. (Remember, I got bored.)  
  
Once the current of awareness of the self is set afoot, it becomes everlasting and continuous by intensification. Unknown  
  
Chapter Four: 'My eyes burn' was the first thought I had when I finally became aware of myself. And my eyes did burn; my eyes burned as if shards of glass were imbedded in them. But that pain disappeared when I suddenly became aware of the rest of my body. Every single cell of my being felt like it was on fire, and vaguely I recalled feeling that pain somewhere else, but I couldn't remember where. As for remembering a location, I had no idea as to where I was. The last thing I remembered was falling out of my window.  
  
Time had no meaning, and I just assumed that I was still lying on the grass, only a minute after my fall. I knew that the creatures were coming, so I tried to move, but found I couldn't. A small bubble of panic began to rise in my throat, and despite my hard efforts to move, I found that I couldn't. There was no sound where I was, and my vision was met with blackness. I wondered idly if I was now deaf and blind.  
  
I tried to hear, to see, but it was as if I was trapped in a void, devoid of light and sound. I wanted to get out, but I felt like I was kept in a glass chamber, and I was unable to find the door out. I pushed and pushed on that mental barrier, but a dark voice sounded in my head, "NO!" Immediately, the barrier grew hot, and I pulled back screaming. I went back to the place I had seemingly come from. Maybe if I went back, the pain would stop. I receded into the darkness.  
  
~*~*~  
  
I became aware of myself minutes, hours, maybe even days after the first time I had become conscious. I couldn't remember anything, thought, save for the long fall from the window. Again I wildly wondered where I was, and attempted to push out of that barrier. But that icy voice held me back, and I sunk back into oblivion. Obviously, someone didn't want me to be conscious, and I wasn't about to test his or her patience. Who needs reality, anyways?  
  
~*~*~  
  
"I wonder if no one realizes that no words rhyme with either purple or orange," I wondered idly on one bored night/day in the empty void I assumed to be my imagination; my imagination because their was no way that the knowledge part of my mind be that incredibly empty.  
  
~*~*~  
  
I was so bored. So utterly, utterly bored. It was like sitting through a class of History of Magic where Professor Binns is repeating himself over, and over, and over, and over. Of Merlin! The monotony!  
  
~*~*~  
  
I had to get out of there! I was going absolutely nuts. I had realized by then that I had been lost within myself for quite some time. Merlin, was I this boring in real life? I made a mental note to myself to try to be more fun. That got me thinking. If I was no longer in my body, but somewhere in my mind, could I make a mental note to myself? I can't send a mental note to my mind if I'm already there? Then I wonder, "How can I be conscious if I'm in only a part of my mind? If I'm in my mind, I don't have my mind with me. How does all of this work? Am I really saying this? How can I say this to myself if I'm trapped in myself? I wonder if this is why I can't remember anything, because I can't access the memory part of my mind. But how can I remember the fall out of the window, if I can't access my memories? And if I'm trapped in my mind, who is controlling my body? If I'm trapped inside, who is controlling the outside? Or am I still there on the grass, moments after the fall, all of these thoughts passing through like lightning? Or is someone controlling me; well, not me, because I'm here, but my body. But if someone is controlling my body, who is it?" (A/N: I don't do authors notes often in the story, but was anyone else confused? I know I am. And I'm the one that wrote it.)  
  
~*~*~  
  
"I don't like red-headed people. Save for the Weasleys, redheaded people, especially boys, creep me out. That horrible orange hair, that pale skin, those freckles, those foul attitudes! Save for the Weasleys', I can't stand any of them."  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Humdidodido, I'm so bored I don't know what to do."  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Humdideedidee, I might as well be stuck in a tree."  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Mary had a little chicken, little chicken, little chicken. Mary had a little chicken, and she killed it for her soup."  
  
~*~*~  
  
I have got to get out of here! I am so incredibly bored!"  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Maybe if I try hard enough, I can get past the barrier, ignoring the burning pain of course. What I need is a way to get past it. Maybe if I leave this suffocating feeling will go away. How, though, can I feel that way, if I'm in my mind, not using the feeling part of my mind. How can I feel this feeling as if I'm trapped in water? Curious how I can feel this way, but do not need to breathe."  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Ok. So running head on to the barrier doesn't work. I'll try to remember that."  
  
~*~*~  
  
"THAT'S IT! I'M BREAKING OUT OF HERE YOU EVIL FUCK! YOU CAN'T KEEP ME IN HERE FOREVER! I KNOW YOU HEAR ME! LET ME OUT OF HERE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Ok, so if I run at it hard enough, and push hard enough, I'll get out. I wish I had my wand."  
  
~*~*~  
  
By then I was probably going insane. It was so dull where I was. So unbelievably dull. I didn't know how long I was in there, but I wanted out. Finally I had enough. Working up the nerve, I ran (at least, I felt like I was running) straight at the barrier. Ignoring the voice screaming at me to stop, I pushed my way, feeling the white-hot film of the barrier bend forward. I stretched and stretched at the barrier, until finally, millennia later, the barrier broke. I pushed through, when all of a sudden, I felt as if I were being split in to, like a razor was cutting me down the middle. I had broken the barrier in my mind, and I was being punished for it. The voice screamed no, but it was barely inaudible over my screams of pain. Everything around me shattered like glass. I passed through darkness, my 'eyes' closed tight. And when I opened them, I was staring up into bright light, and into the surprised face of Professor Snape.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. 


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